Column: Strong and Wrong or Weak and Wise?

Last Wednesday’s gospel challenged me. Jesus starts and ends with strong, provocative language—"If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26) and “In the same way, every one of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:33).

In between, he offers two examples for our reflection. In the first, He asks who would undertake to build a tower without first calculating whether or not he could finish it; in the second, he calls to mind a king assessing the strength of an advancing army to determine whether he could successfully oppose them.

In both examples, the concern is clear: Will I be able to persevere and succeed with the resources I have at hand? But the actions and outcomes are subtly different. In the first, the builder does not take the time to calculate, and his inability to complete his tower leads to failure and ridicule. In the second, however, the king does take the time, and upon realizing he cannot win, seeks peace before the battle ever begins.

My natural inclination is toward the first example: rushing toward my goals, headlong and enthusiastic, with no serious assessment of my capabilities or weaknesses. Often I can get a long way on heart and stick-to-it-iveness, but as Dad used to say, “Four-wheel drive just means you’re farther from home when you get stuck.” And even in the daily struggles of marriage and family life, I lean toward being strong and wrong—trying to white-knuckle, bluff, and argue to get my way rather than admit that I’m over my head or that I made a mistake.

But I aspire more and more to the second example. The king may be weak, but he is wise. He looks squarely at the situation, sees the reality of it, and acts prudently. He does not react out of stubbornness or pride. He is careful with what God has given him—especially the people entrusted to him.

What is the result? The Lord doesn’t say, but perhaps we can imagine. When a king sues for peace before an advancing army, he will likely have to give something up—perhaps his freedom, his kingship, his life—to preserve what he cares for. He will have to compromise, and it may cost him dearly.

Love always does.

It is better to be weak and wise than strong and wrong. It is better to know Who is in charge—to surrender and seek peace with the Lord—than to try to conquer this world and the next on our own steam and fail.

One last thought: These examples are bookended by the two verses mentioned above. Jesus is calling His disciples specifically to detachment from the goods of this world—material possessions, but also family.
The Lord is advancing, and His army with Him. Are we wise enough in our weakness to surrender even those we love? Do we trust in His mercy?